Let me tell you about the time I gave my husband a public humiliation. I am frequently bored. I should tell you a bit about myself. I am a woman of adequate means, meaning I have a high-end house in a middle-end suburb. My husband makes money hand over fist at his firm, so I do not have to work. On any given day, I can be found watching the declining soap opera or a daytime talk show, with a glass of wine, and a lit cigarette.
A far cry from my college days when scotch, whiskey, or even tequila was on the menu. Instead of doing a shot whenever a celebrity says “But, umm,” I take a sip when Joy Behar says something annoying and a drag whenever Julie Chen is being attractive. I may have a bit of a thing for Asian women, not that my husband would know that. Of even care, really.
Do I cheat on my husband? No. No, he is not quite a cuckold husband yet. Oh, sure, more than one flirtatious exchange with our pool boy has occurred, and I might have grabbed his crotch while “accidentally” bumping into him, but I have yet to let him check my ph balance.
I do not consider a member of the same sex cheating and have had more than one satisfying orgasm from a few other well-to-do housewives. Oh, if my husband could see that, he would have a heart attack. And probably furiously masturbate, but that would just kill the mood of it. After all, the point of a lesbian relationship is no men, even if it is one you are married to.
But when my girlfriends are away, I have to make do with lard ass. I have come to loathe him in so many ways, though I have to admit, I do not want to work. So as long as he pays my bills, I will let him paw at my breasts with his sweaty, grubby little hands while he gets off on my thigh from time to time. After all, fifteen minutes a month is better than forty hours a week, right girls?
I try to get my amusement in several different ways, like flirting with Paco the pool boy, but this tale is a little more public in nature. We had to go to some fundraiser. I do not know what it was about, and frankly, I can not bring myself to give a rat’s hairy ass. Save the orphaned whales or something like that. Boohoo.
Cry me a river, then fish out of it and leave me the hell alone. But it was an excuse to dress up and possibly scout some new talent in the girlfriend department. A dry martini or two, and most of those bitches will tell you everything. Three more, and they will not be able to remember you tried to kiss them in the woman’s restroom if they did not like it.
This particular night, there was little in the hot woman department. Not even some of the feisty cougars were there. It seemed like every woman there had gone through menopause, gotten the shirt, and shown up for the ten-year reunion. Depressing, to say the least.
So I had to figure out a new way to amuse myself. And that was when I remembered some of my experimental days in college. I dated a man who loved it when a woman would humiliate him in public. He also wanted me to make him a slutty sissy and do some coerced cock sucking, which was hot at the time. In fact, I may look him up again. But the humiliation thing worked well enough for tonight.
I “accidentally” spilled some of my water on the crotch of my husband when no one was looking. He looked angry and was about to get up, when I stopped him. I pointed out his bosses and other extremely important people were there.
If he were to get up now, everyone would see the wet spot on his crotch and assumed he wet his pants. He was obviously flustered at this concept, blushing with embarrassment. It was funny because even the bald spot on his head turned red.
As he tried to figure out a way to salvage the situation, I pulled out a cigarette and lit up. This was funny and damned if I was not going to enjoy it. Finally, it came time to stand up, and mingle. He tried standing behind me and holding his napkin from dinner over his crotch. The poor fool still did not realize that just brought more attention to it.
Eventually, we got out of there, earlier than expected, I might add, and I drew myself a hot bath. As I soaked in the bubbles, I thought over the night’s activities and touched myself. To be honest, I think my husband had a hard on. Maybe next time, we can try some more public sissy humiliation, to put the spark back in our marriage.
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